Penelope nodded in her turn, knowing who he meant. She let herself relax and studied Odysseus, silvered by the moonlight, and hoped the shadows hid her features enough.
"What do you think happened to the bodies?" she asked, when the night quiet flowed soothing around them again.
"Taken." He glanced up once at the stars high and softly bright above. "Polydeukes called out to Zeus...rumors say only Kastor was the son of Tyndareos."
"I didn't know." She flinched when Odysseus frowned at her. "I have been in Alybas with my lady for five years."
"I should have realized..." He nodded. "There have been rumors Zeus deceived Leda more than once."
"So when Polydeukes--when the prince called out to him, Zeus was answering his son, not just a prayer for help." Penelope nodded. It made sense. "Then the prince was immortal. That is why he didn't fall from his wounds."
"You listen where no one can see you?"
"My lady told me what you told her, Lord Odysseus," she returned quickly.
"She favors you, then?" He smiled. "Can you tell me which of us she favors as a husband?"
"I don't--" Penelope shrank back a little, hoping the shadows would hide her burning face. "They are suitors for Helen, not for her."
"Your lady is most lovely, boy. What are you called?" Odysseus stood and took a few steps toward her, frowning.
"Dyvis," she blurted, suddenly grateful for her grandfather's madness.
"Well, Dyvis, your mistress is old enough to marry and she is of royal blood. Only a fool thinks Tyndareos brought Penelope back to Sparta merely to keep Helen company. Who do you think your mistress prefers?"
"She does not want to marry."
"The old ways are gone, unfortunately, when a royal daughter could choose."
"Old ways?" Her heart stopped for nearly a breath.
"Surely they still teach the old ways in Alybas?" He sat on the rim of the pool a few paces from her. A muffled groan escaped him.
"Some," she admitted. "A few older women speak of it. Only in whispers. My lady was mocked for listening."
"They were fools to mock her. Do you hold with the old ways, Dyvis?"
For a moment she stared at him, forgetting the false name she had given him. Penelope blushed and looked away, hoping he had not seen her thoughts in her face.
"There is much truth in what the old women say. My lady is from a line of priestesses."
"I know." His voice grew thick with unspoken thoughts.
"What will happen to Sparta, with both princes dead?" she blurted to fight the strange fluttering of her heart.
"The old ways will lead. Helen's husband will be king, taking his power through her. Their child will be heir."
"If Helen has a daughter, the trouble will begin again."
"True." He closed his eyes, tilting his face up at the stars and moon, as if he could feel their light. "On Ithaka, many still follow the old ways, looking to the one Goddess before calling on Zeus and his brothers. I wish my sister lived to be queen, and leave me to explore the world."
"Sailing?" Penelope imagined him standing in the prow of his ship, looking out over sea and unnamed lands ahead.
"For the most part." Odysseus chuckled, glancing at her. "Would you like to be an explorer, Dyvis?"
"I must stay and tend to my lady." She returned his smile. "She is sorely hurt by the news today. Teris and Seleron are traitors, aren't they?"
"I believe so. But Idas and Lynceaus are dead, so there is no proof."
"It's not fair! If I could, I would kill them myself, no matter what might happen to me. Helen--she can't sleep, can't eat. She can hardly see for the tears. I can't--" She stopped with tight dread pulsing through her body. A glance at Odysseus showed him watching her with nothing but interest.
"All the king can do is send them away. Even small, rough Ithaka hasn't been disgraced by my being refused." Odysseus smiled, but it was a coldly triumphant smile.
"It isn't enough. Life for life."
"Dyvis, you are loyal and the gods will bless you for that. But you are only a boy, untrained." He stood up, a flicker of pain on his face. "Go to bed. The hour is late and you need to be strong for your mistress. No matter how brave a face she wears, no matter her strength, she hurts as much as Helen." He gestured back toward the arch she had come through.
There was nothing Penelope could do but obey. When she looked back, he stood by the pond, looking up at the stars.
* * * *
Tyndareos held court three days later and the results were as Odysseus said. Teris and Seleron were accused, and in turn accused Menelaos and Odysseus of treachery. There was no proof to support either side. Teris and Seleron were sent away, disgraced. Tyndareos announced that the man who married Helen would become his son and rule Sparta.
When Dolios brought Penelope the news, she thanked him in a quiet voice, then went to her room and cried.
Chapter 6
* * *
"Come to gloat?" Ithios roared, leaping to his feet. The once-quiet clearing echoed the thunder of his voice.
Penelope rocked back on her heels and stared. She had come to the little grove by the river to be alone. Her brother was the last person she expected to see. Usually by this time of the afternoon he was asleep in his rooms, resting for the evening's feasting or games.
"Brother, what--"
"Which of you put him up to it?" He advanced on her, shoulders hunched, hands clenched into fists at his side.
"Put who--"
"I should be the next king of Sparta!"
"Our uncle has the choice and the right."
"He's so in fear of Helen he'd rather steal my right to the throne than anger her. She's no daughter of Zeus. She's a common slut that--"
Penelope slapped him, swinging with the weight of her whole body behind the blow. She had the satisfaction of seeing Ithios stumble, knocked off balance. Then the stinging burst through her hand. She thought she had cracked bones. Ithios stared, his face white where she hit him, then bright red as the blood flowed back into the flesh.
Aias laughed, startling them both. Penelope turned, her mouth dropping open. He stood to one side, leaning against a tree. She turned back to her brother, prickles of fear running up and down her back. What if he made his threats come true?
"I told you she had a strong arm." The black-haired giant's smile faded. "I'll not listen to you speak ill of Helen, either."
"You'd champion her? With no hope of bedding her?" Ithios sneered. He pressed his hand against his sore face, wincing. Anger sparkled in his eyes.
"She is the daughter of Zeus. That is enough for me."
"Then even less reason to give her Sparta! It should be mine. My uncle should have named me his heir the same day he sent Teris and Seleron away."
"You want the throne very much," Penelope said, voice quiet, disturbing thoughts running through her mind.
Ithios tried to smile and winced. "Sister, you have a duty to me. Speak to the king. He will listen to you."
"Why should he listen to me? Why does everyone think the king will listen to me?" she blurted.
"Tell him the throne is mine! I am the last male of our family left alive."
"You should go," Aias said, gesturing back the way Penelope had come. "He's gone mad with jealousy."
"Jealousy?" Ithios roared. "Jealous of what belongs to me?"
"Be careful who hears you say that." Penelope turned to go.
"Don't give me orders!" He raised his hand to hit her, but Aias stopped him with a frown.
"Advice, Ithios," she snapped.
"Why would you give me advice?"
"Teris was your friend?" Penelope waited until he nodded. "Some might accuse you of helping murder our cousins."
Ithios covered the open ground in three lunging steps. Penelope barely had time to draw a breath and duck before he knocked her to the ground. She rolled, trying to remember her grandfather's teaching. She shrieked as Ithios' foot connected with her ribs, then slammed into the s
ide of her head.
Then Aias pulled the writhing, screaming, spitting Ithios off her.
* * * *
King Tyndareos came to see Penelope, silently watching Helen fuss over her few cuts and her bruised ribs. He left and called Ithios before him. The next morning, Penelope learned her brother had been banished from Sparta until after she married. She nodded, thanked the servant who brought her the news, and went back to her weaving. She trembled, both angry and afraid. Finally, her uncle had acknowledged her impending marriage.
* * * *
Penelope didn't dare leave her bed and roam for several nights. Helen leaned on her, as if Penelope were the elder and Helen a little child. It startled her to find she could give orders that contradicted Helen's, and the servants would obey. Penelope marveled at the feeling of power, the sense that she was indeed someone of authority in the palace. And the next moment, knew it for a sham. Only among the women did she rule. She devoted herself to comforting Helen and weaving the tapestry she had promised for the bridal night.
Finally, a night came when Helen didn't beg Penelope to stay with her, though she crept to Penelope's room later, when the servants slept. The next night, she didn't leave her bed. On the second night without Helen needing comfort, Penelope put on her boy clothes and slipped out the window to roam again.
She reached the fountain pool in the king's garden before she realized what she intended. What were her chances of meeting Odysseus? Penelope sat in the shadows to hide her bruises, glad the moon waned. She hoped her blush didn't show as bright hot as it felt. Three times she told herself to get up from the edge of the pool and leave, and each time she settled down again.
"Your mistress must be feeling better, if you are out walking tonight," Odysseus said when he appeared. He nodded to her and sat on the bench, with a spear's length between them. Penelope was grateful. "Did her brother hurt her badly?"
"Only a few bruises. She is...willing to pay that price, to keep him from tormenting her."
"Tormenting her how?" His voice threatened to crack, sending a streak of warmth through her.
"He threatened to give her to a husband she loathed...among other things." She shrugged, trying to appear not to care.
"Have no fear for your mistress. There are many who will guard her, if she asks." Odysseus laughed when she gaped at him. "Lady Penelope is much admired. Didn't you know?"
"No one will tell me what happens anywhere." She flinched at the frustration heavy in her voice. "I hoped you could."
"What is there to tell?" He shrugged, and she was pleased to see no stiffness in his movements. His wounds had fully healed. "Most suitors have gone away, to leave the king to mourn in peace. Many will stay away, with no harm to their pride."
"Some have not gone."
"No. Some, he asked to stay."
"Then he favors you for Helen?"
"I doubt that, Dyvis." Odysseus shook his head, grinning at her. He looked at the moon and stretched his arms as if he would reach up and touch the sky. He arched his back, stretching his tunic tight over his sleekly muscled torso, and strangely, her mouth went dry. "No, I am here because the king favors Menelaos and I am Menelaos' oath friend. Nothing more than that."
"You think Ithaka has no chance of making Helen its queen?" Penelope turned to face him.
"Menelaos is prince of Mycenae. Sparta needs good allies."
"Then war is coming?"
"With change comes turmoil. People fight to take what doesn't belong to them, or what others have wrongfully taken from them. Would you like to go to war, Dyvis?" His grin dimmed.
"I can use a spear for hunting, and a sling. Little else," she admitted. "I wanted to learn to use a bow, but Grandfather said I didn't have the strength in my shoulders."
"You do look thin." His eyes sparkled as he looked her over. Penelope tried not to flinch; if he could see her bruises, he would penetrate her disguise. "I would teach you, if you could escape your mistress each afternoon."
"Oh, I...thank you, Lord Odysseus, but I can't." Penelope thought she would be sick, her elation turned cold in a heartbeat. "My mistress needs me all day."
"You're a good lad, Dyvis. The gods bless you for your loyalty. Is Penelope better? I heard Helen still mourns and her cousin is her strength."
"She tries," she said in a near-whisper. Penelope felt her throat constrict with a hundred questions she wanted to ask and couldn't without arousing suspicions. She stood instead. "I should return to her, if she needs me. Thank you for answering."
"I often walk at night, thinking of Ithaka. You're welcome to join me with more questions."
Penelope could only nod her thanks. She hurried to the arch, pausing there with a new thought. She looked back and he still sat on the bench, watching her.
"Will you tell me about Ithaka, next time?" Her voice caught in her throat when Odysseus turned to look at her. Hunger burned on his face. "I like to learn about new places," she said, the words dragged from her, using them as a shield against feelings she couldn't understand.
"I would enjoy that. Go to bed." He watched her as she ran.
Safely back in her room and bed, Penelope shivered. She knew the expression on his face. He longed for Ithaka as she longed for Alybas and Bachan.
* * * *
The days of mourning dragged, though Penelope welcomed the quiet. She and Helen could roam the palace wherever they wished, without fear of meeting suitors and needing escorts. The warm damp of spring turned into the crackling heat of summer. The women spent more time by the river washing clothes, mending, sewing, gossiping. Sometimes Penelope wondered if they would try to sleep along the river's edge, to escape the stifling heat of the summer nights. She knew Helen might even have suggested such a silly idea, if not for the grief that made her blue eyes gray.
The gaiety of their old times by the river did return, little by little. Serving girls giggled over sweethearts. The women raced along the river's edge and danced until they couldn't move for the fire in their legs. Penelope tried to invent riddle contests like the men enjoyed, but no maids were interested. Helen refused to play. When they couldn't remember Odysseus' riddle of the water, which they had all heard Penelope answer, she gave up in disgust.
One afternoon, when she chased a ball thrown too far, Penelope neared the woods. She took the time to snatch up a stick before entering the shadows. At the corner of her eye, she thought she caught movement.
Penelope gripped the stick tighter when her hunt took her towards that particular spot where she had met Aias. Nothing moved among the trees except herself. Not even the breeze. Penelope found the ball, and next to it were two sets of sandal prints, deep in the soft ground, almost hidden by shadows. Two men had stood there for a long time. Penelope wondered if she only imagined she had seen golden hair, and perhaps a flash of dark red. Menelaos and Odysseus were constantly together, like brothers. The idea of those two spying on the women pleased her a little. She resolved to work harder, to excel in everything.
Every few nights, she ventured from her room. Odysseus was always there in the king's garden. Sometimes he waited for her, sometimes he didn't appear until she sat alone a while. Not a single night of roaming went by that he didn't appear. Every question she asked, he answered. Penelope learned about Ithaka, its ships and rocky shores, the warriors who loved the flashing, rough sea and the battles that had been fought to hold it safe. She learned about the rich court of Mycenae and harsh, golden Agamemnon who ruled there. She learned the difference between the true and false tales that surrounded the family of Atreus, and the curses said to rest on that bloodline.
Penelope lived for those moonlit lessons about the world around her. No one, she knew, would ever talk so openly to her if they knew she wasn't a boy. She wondered what Odysseus would say if he knew the truth. Sometimes she wondered why he had not discovered it already.
* * * *
The suitors returned, bringing bustle and feasting back to the palace. The rains returned with them, bringing
relief from the heavy, hot air.
After a three-day stretch of showers that kept everyone indoors, Helen and Penelope spent the day with their maids in the garden. As night fell, the two cousins retreated to sit alone in Helen's room, planning dresses for a coming feast. Helen laughed, holding up a bright red length of cloth and declared that it matched her favorite ball perfectly for color. That was when they discovered the ball missing.
"You look in the weaving room," Penelope said, getting up, "and I'll check outside."
"Be careful," Helen said with a teasing laugh. "There might be dark-haired giants hiding in the shadows."
"If there are, you'll soon hear them running from me, shrieking in fright." Penelope laughed as she left.
She didn't find the ball in the women's gardens. Penelope retraced her steps, trying to remember exactly where she and Helen had run, playing their games. The trampled, damp grass made tracking easier. She smiled, recalling the story Odysseus told her two nights before, about the first time his father taught him to track and hunt.
Penelope didn't realize how far she wandered until she reached the arch into the king's garden. The ball could have rolled through the arch, she supposed. She only searched a few minutes before she found it in the deepening shadows, under the thick branches of a hedge. She had to get down on her hands and knees to reach far enough in to retrieve the toy.
"I'm not surprised," King Tyndareos said. His voice came from the other side of the hedge. Penelope stiffened, wondering why she hadn't heard him approaching. Then she heard two sets of footsteps.
"What doesn't surprise you?" A touch of laughter hung in Odysseus' voice. "That I don't seek Helen as my bride, or that I would confess it to you?"
"I may be an old man, but I am not blind or witless yet." The king sounded more alive and in better humor. "You never did look at Helen with that starvation and worship the others wear. Not even from the first day you arrived."
"I expected a different woman." Odysseus' voice came so clearly, Penelope knew they had paused in front of her, with the hedge between them. She stayed kneeling and held her breath, though her heart pounded so loudly she wondered neither man heard. "No matter what the emissaries say, trouble waits. The traders say so, and they move among the common people. I need a different kind of queen for Ithaka, if I am called away to war. A woman who can hold all the quarreling nobles and elders into unity, no matter what the gods might cast before us."
THE DREAMER'S LOOM Page 8
